“MOLLY”

“To be frivolously minded brings death, but to be morally minded is life and peace.” (Romans 8:6)

She was 40 pounds of playful puppy, and that was when she was but a wee one…a slippery, slimy, slobbery, Saint Bernard. Molly was our pet, the neighborhood bundle of puppy love. There were nine of us kids in the Rhoades clan, all of which thought Molly was the ultimate “man’s best friend.”

We taught her to wrestle, literally. I mean moves and all. She was charming and chubby. Well fed and well bred. She made coming home a whole new adventure.

The concrete path to our garage became known as the driveway of doom. The jingle of her dog tags was a friendly reminder to take cover or get run over. If I was up for it (or not), she would attack, usually at my feet. Down I would go and then it was off for a five minute grappling session with “Beethoven.” Slobber went everywhere. There was licking and grabbing, pushing and pulling. When I was totally exhausted, she still wanted more. She was as playful as she was powerful. The way to end it all was to escape into the house for a good bath.

But, Molly had a problem. You see, she just wouldn’t grow up. We paid for training. We brought in friends that were experts in the field of obedience, but she just never seemed to catch on. At first (as with most of the dogs in our suburban section of town), we let her roam free with her friends (a couple of German shepherds and a beagle) . They were buds. But problems loomed “large” on the horizon. As she grew older, the damage increased. It went from a few flowerbeds crushed under the weight of a man-sized scratcher, to several garbage cans torn hither and yon. The neighbors were in a dither, and our dog would have to go “on the leash.”

We started with a corkscrew-type restraint that twisted into the ground. It didn’t last long. The next day, when I pulled into the driveway arriving home from church, Molly came running. The chain and corkscrew were dangling from her neck like a 70’s peace sign. Up she went, and down I dropped. It was no time to play. I was left with spit and muddy paw prints on my Sunday best.

Dad began to suggest that we get rid of Molly. Perish the thought! She was a Rhoades, and we would see this thing through. All she needed was a new set of boundaries. We bought her a bigger doghouse, ran a huge eye hook through the frame and hooked it to her leather necklace. Our monster, “Molly,” was now safe. Or so we thought.

One crisp fall morning in my junior year of high school, I had to ride the cheese bus (my 68 Pontiac was in for repairs). As we were leaving my stop, the kids started craning through the crowd to look out the windows. With my eyes still straining to free themselves from sleepers, I looked, too. Here came Molly, dragging a 120 pound dog house down Rural Route Number Two. It was hilarious. The bus driver was laughing so hard she had to stop old “Cheeser.” Molly was going to school with a backpack the size of Rhode Island.

My bus driver gave me a reprieve. I drug our charming chubby friend and her domicile back into our yard and hoped she would understand. I told her to stay, and she did--long enough for me to get around the corner and our bus driver to wipe the tears of laughter from her eyes.

Within a few days, as I arrived home from soccer practice, I extricated myself from my ugly tan Pontiac, prepared myself for a pounding, and headed for the big oak tree that was now Molly’s margin maker. It seemed like we just had to keep going to something bigger and stronger to keep her from blowing it.

I didn’t hear any jingling. I couldn’t see those big dirty paws prepared to seal my doom to dirtdom. I was sure she had run off again. I walked into the house, only to be met by the tearful eyes of my younger siblings. Mom said sorrowfully, “Molly’s gone. She broke her chain and met her fate at the hands of the garbage truck. Dad had to take her to be ‘put to sleep.’” I sat down and cried, and went through the list of “if only’s,” trying to diminish the disappointment.

You see, Molly had the same problem many people have. They seem charming enough. They mean no harm, and surely, if given the chance, they would show you their playful side. If we could only keep them from drinking, or get them to stay off drugs. Convince them to keep their paws out of someone else’s stuff. Sometimes they make us laugh, like the day the big brown and white slobber machine pulled her townhouse down the highway. But eventually, they always seem to make us cry.

We try bigger and stronger boundaries, anything to keep them safe. Unfortunately, boundary breakers are sure they can handle it. Life becomes a spiraling spin into the world of “living on the ragged edge.” Eventually, they take a trip to where the garbage lies, and we get the bad news: “they have reached the end of their rope.”

If you find yourself, like Molly, stretching the limits all in the name of harmless hoopla, you may be headed for a tragedy. It will leave Mom, Dad, and the whole family sitting in tears. The fate of Molly awaits those who won’t exercise restraint. For the sake of us all, stop straying. We love it when you leave mud on our Sunday best

“FOR EVERY BLESSING THERE IS A BOUNDARY”

“The body is not meant for sexual immorality, but for the Lord.... . .Flee sexual immorality.” I Corinthians 6:13 & 18.

“How did I get started?” That was my first encounter with a curious five-year-old wondering just how he made his way into this world. Panic riddled my body and brain as I sprayed off the last bit of soap from the mini van and his big wheel. I was being hit with the big question. Parenting had just taken a turn for the worst.

My brain searched frantically for an appropriate response to a toddler’s inquiring mind. I mentally clicked on files and retrieved what Dr. Richard Dobbins said in his book entitled, “Venturing Into A Child’s World:” “When your children become curious, appease their curiosity, don’t arouse it.” Looking down at the blonde-haired, blue-eyed questioner, I responded: “You get started when you’re small.” He looked at me and said, “Oh.” That was it. It was all he needed, and all I could come up with. He quietly mounted his yellow three wheeler and silently rode away into the sunset. My work was ended for that day, but rest for the weary is short-lived.

Several years later he came back to me and said, “Hey Dad, you remember when you told me I got started when I was small? Well, how did I get small?” A simple answer was not going to satisfy his wide-eyed query. We had what would become the first of several father-son chats about the Biblical perspective of “Christian Married Love.”

The apostle Paul makes it abundantly clear when it comes to a proper sexual relationships: “For every blessing, there is a boundary.”

In most modern cultures where sexual mores have blatantly moved towards pagan standards, the doctrine of the sanctity of the body needs to be heard anew within the church. Sexual immorality is still sin, even though it has been justified under every conceivable rationalization.
The question is, “How do I avoid immoral behavior?”

There are two steps that will help for building fences around the most cherished of relationships. The word “flee,” comes from the Greek word, “Fyoo-go,” which has two avenues in it’s definition: the primary root, “to run away,” and the analysis, “to shun.” Two battle plans for managing morality.

WHEN AT RISK, RUN (Genesis 39:1-15): We find our example from the life of Joseph. Joseph was at risk. He was in a country and culture he didn’t know, surrounded by a language he didn’t understand, and thrust into a position of great trust. He had found success and in the process come face to face with it’s seduction.

Thomas Carlyle once wrote, “Adversity is sometimes hard upon a man, but for one man who can stand prosperity, there are a hundred that will stand adversity.”
Potiphar’s wife took the direct approach. But Joseph didn’t flinch, even for a moment. Without hesitation and being absolutely secure in himself and his God, he responded with equal boldness. There are two distinct reasons why he didn’t yield to moral failure:
First, his loyalty to his master. He said to the woman, “My master trusts me. He has given me responsibility for everything he owns. The only thing that is not mine is you—his wife. I could never betray his trust.”

Second was Joseph’s loyalty to God. “How could I do this great evil and sin against God?”
Potiphar’s wife refused to take no for an answer. She wasn’t about to be ignored, so she pressed Joseph day after day. All his talk about noble reasons for resisting only intensified her determination. Joseph refused to budge. And he is a good example to us all.
Joseph ended up dashing out into the street. What a clear image! What a practical spotlight on truth from Joseph’s life. What strong Biblical counsel. Whenever the New Testament lingers on the subject of sensual temptation, it gives one command: “RUN!!!!!” The Bible does not tell us to reason with it. It does not tell us to think about it and claim verses. It tells us to FLEE!! The command of God is to run! And that is exactly what Joseph did. In the end he suffered for it. But he did the right thing. The lesson of Joseph teaches us when at risk, RUN!
The second avenue for exercising moral muscles is:

WHEN SHAKEN, SHUN (Judges 16:15-16): Psalm 1:1 states in modern language, “In order to stay out of trouble, it is best to avoid it.”

Matthew Henry states: “Samson had been more than once brought into mischief and danger by the love of a woman, yet he would not take warning, but is again taken in the same snare, and this third time is fatal. Lack of moral restraints is one of the things that takes away the heart. This is a deep pit into which many have fallen; but from which few escape, and those by a miracle of mercy, and the loss of reputation and usefulness, and almost all, except their souls. The anguish of the suffering is ten thousand times greater than all the pleasures of the sin.”
Take warning from Samson’s fall. Delilah was trouble, but he just couldn’t muster up the courage to “shun her.” This time it cost him his life. A little shun here and a little shun there and this magnet of immorality could have been resisted.

My encounter with my little boy on his big wheel made way for the moral message, “for every blessing there is a boundary.” Any three wheelers coming your way? Being prepared purges panic. To shun and run is good advice.